


Your Body Is A Temple, But The Temple Is A Prison

by DefaltManifesto



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Blindfolds, Body Dysphoria, Cunnilingus, Dissociation, F/M, Feathers & Featherplay, Hopeful Ending, Light Angst, Light Dom/sub, Mild service kink, Prostate Massage, Prostate Milking, Sexual Experimentation, Subspace, Tantric Orgasms, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-11 18:06:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13529718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DefaltManifesto/pseuds/DefaltManifesto
Summary: Instinct holds trauma in the skin like a spiked cage. With a little work, it's possible to overcome it.





	Your Body Is A Temple, But The Temple Is A Prison

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is super important to me. I put a lot of love and work into it so I hope you enjoy it! Thanks to two friends who have let me endlessly scream at them about this idea, you're the best. 
> 
> Title from Drowning In The Sound by Amanda Palmer
> 
> Comments are loved

[The tumblr](http://schizzar.tumblr.com)

 

  
  
The first time Isabela touches his dick, he nearly kicks her. It’s only because she’s sitting on his thighs that he doesn’t, but she gets the hint from his shout and removes her hand. It’s embarrassing to say the least. He’s hard from all the kissing and rubbing through their clothes, but the bare touch is so foreign to him that it’s just too much.

“I’ll be honest, that’s the first time someone’s made that noise from my hand on their dick,” Isabela says with a smile. “Too sensitive?”

“I’m touch shy,” he says through gritted teeth.

She rolls her eyes. “I noticed. Here. Let’s try this.”

She reaches for his cock again and he almost flinches. Her fingers barely touch him, a light caress that sends shivers through his body, pleasurable but not so much so that it scares him away from the sensation. He bites his lip and close his eyes.

"Most men start yelling at me for being a tease when I do this,” she says. “But you…”

He spasms them, a whole body shake as he fingers trail feather-light over the tip of his cock. It’s…good. He didn’t think that was possible, not after that first terribly failed attempt with Hawke.

“You okay?” Isabela asks, fingers ghosting back down.

“Y-Yeah,” he says, voice embarrassingly high-pitched.

"Could you come from just this?” she asks, nothing mocking in her tone which takes him by surprise.

“If you kept it up,” he admits.

“Oh we can have so much fun with this, you have no idea,” she says and he opens his eyes just to see the excited grin on her face.

As it turns out, Fenris hates orgasming. The pleasure Isabela builds upon with her light touches is enjoyable but when he comes, he feels like he’s choking on too much sensation and his markings glow whether because he can’t control them or they interpret the feeling as a threat. Isabela takes his reaction in stride though.

“Not everyone likes it,” she says, lounging in his bed as he cleans himself up. “We can figure out what you do like. I’ve always liked a challenge.”

Fenris shifts from one foot to the next, shame and the anger he uses to cover it up rising in him until he stamps it back down. “This can’t be common.”

“I didn’t say it was,” she says. “But you’re hardly the first person I’ve met with that sort of hang up. Now, let me teach you how to put that mouth of yours to use.”

 

-.-

 

As it turns out, he likes eating Isabela out. There’s something about her soft direction and her hand in his hair as he slicks his tongue over her clit. Something in his chest loosens and his brain goes quiet. All he has to do is what she wants and he trusts her not to ask him for something she knows he won’t be able to do just to watch him fail. She’s not Danarius.

“Shit…” She sighs, legs spreading as her heels dig into the mattress and she pushes up into him. “You really know how to treat a girl…”

When she comes, it’s nothing like Hawke. She rides the sensation with a gentle roll of her hips and soft sigh of his name as her fingers curl through his hair. He pulls away when she pushes and looks her over. Seeing the way she lounges with a satisfied smirk on the pillows of her bed fills him with a low heat of arousal and also, strangely, pride. He has to resist the urge to get between her thighs again. The thought makes him flush.

She gives him a curious look and hums thoughtfully. She doesn’t tell him what she’s thinking though and for that, Fenris is grateful. He doesn’t think he can handle any more vulnerability in one day, and he’s glad he chose to explore this with someone who understands that. He’ll follow Hawke to places he wouldn’t normally go. That doesn’t mean Hawke’s desire to _know_ him doesn’t put him on edge most days. Isabela…she gets it.

 

-.-

 

"That's...a lot of toys," Fenris says.

“I just think everyone deserves an orgasm that feels good,” Isabela says as she rummages through a small chest she keeps under her bed.

Fenris makes a point of not looking in it from where he sits on the edge of her bed, knowing that whatever she has in there is more likely to make his nerves worse than better. “I appreciate your dedication, but I’m quite happy with what we’ve been doing.”

“Yes, I do so enjoy how much you like being between my legs but I also take pleasure in making other people feel good,” she says. She sits back on her heels with a single long feather in one hand and a blindfold in the other. “Yes or no?”

“I have no objections to either,” he says. “Though if your goal is to tickle me, I hate to inform you that it isn’t a sensation I’m capable of feeling.

“Oh with anyone else that’s exactly what I would do, but you…” Isabela stands and fits the soft cloth blindfold over his eyes. “You, I think, will find the sensation quite pleasurable.”

He lies back on the bed, a barely audible sigh escaping him as the silk of her sheets slides against his skin. She gives a low laugh and the bed dips as she climbs up beside him.

“Ah, yes, I pulled the good silks out just for you,” she says. “You appreciate gentleness the way no one else bothers to. Now. Stay still for me.”

He expects her to start with the feather and his body tenses to prepare for the foreign sensation. Instead her breath blows gently over his abdomen. She’s quiet. All he can hear is a soft inhale before air trickles over his stomach and then down his hips as she traces the lines of his scars. He can’t help the way his skin twitches even as the pleasant, low burning arousal starts to spread through him just from the simple touch.

Isabela makes her way up, tracing the outline of his ribs and for a moment, his mind gets stuck in a single-minded loop of _too skinny, too frail-looking_. Then Isabela stops. His whole body shudders, too keyed up from what she’d been doing to handle the sudden lack of sensation.

“You alright there?” she asks.

“Just…caught up in my thoughts,” he says. “Please keep going.”

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” she says, and then the feather drifts over his right nipple.

He gasps as the light sensation hardens the flesh beneath it and sings through his bones. “I was…”

The feather flicks over the next one and a whine escapes him. Isabela hums. “You were…?”

He tries to talk but he can’t think as Isabela makes the feather dance back and forth until he’s twisting beneath her, trying to get closer and further away as his cock leaks onto his stomach. His skin feels like it does when he walks through an area a mage’s electrical bolt has cut through. The pleasure is bone deep, radiating out from wherever she touches. He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Isabela stops. It’s not the deep, body-wracking sobs he’s given into in his weakest moments, only just enough to wet the cloth around his eyes.

“You still good?” she asks.

"Yes,” he gasps out. “Yes please, yes…”

The feather returns, lazy designs swirling against his stomach and it’s easier to bare than before. The sensations Isabela built up before have banked and now she builds them again but slower than before. It feels like the sensations are bouncing around inside him, ricocheting off each other and growing with every passing moment. It’s pleasure, but for the first time since he can remember, there’s no pain chasing after it from it being too much.

Isabela drags the feather up the underside of his cock and everything Isabela’s been building within him explodes. It’s not an orgasm, at least, not like any he’s ever experienced. It’s a full body feeling that stretches through him, makes him arch his back and his mouth open even though he can’t make a sound. It just builds again and he’s distantly aware that Isabela continues to flick the feather up and down along his cock, but he can’t figure out how to categorize it, process it.

When it finally ends, he collapses back on the bed. His limbs shake and he feels then that he’s drenched in sweat and he is somehow, by some miracle or perhaps curse, still hard.

“Holy fuck, Fenris,” Isabela says, breathless.

Her hands up his face, push the blind fold up and off, and then she’s pressing their lips together. He kisses back, eager, desperate for some closeness to chase away the strange aching emptiness whatever he just experienced has left behind. His cock softens between them as they kiss, but Isabela seems more interested in his lips anyways. When she pulls away, she’s flushed, pupils wide.

“What was that?” he asks, thumbs rubbing over her hips.

“That…that was a tantric orgasm,” she says. “I’ve never gotten a guy to have one with just a feather though. You’re fucking amazing.”

Fenris’ lips quirk up into something close to a smirk. “Thanks. It was…actually really good. It was a lot but instead of being centered in one spot it was like it was diffused through my whole body so it was…enjoyable.”

“I think the word you’re looking for is fantastic,” she says with a roll of her eyes.

“No one likes a braggart,” he says, unable to resist a smile when her eyes narrow. “Thank you though, for having the patience to deal with…this.”

"It’s no trouble, Fenris,” Isabela says. “I want my partners to enjoy themselves in bed. If they don’t, then we’re doing it wrong and I’m not interested. Besides, most men are too impatient to experience what you just did. You were great, Fenris. I promise.”

“That’s…comforting,” he says. He lushes as the next thought enters his head and leaves his mouth. “So when can we do it again?”

 

-.-

 

Isabela introduces him to a lot of things. The best, outside the tantric orgasms which she coaxes out of his body with increasing regularity, is when she focuses on his prostate. He’d expressed some hesitancy when she’d first brought it up. After all, when he’d been with Hawke, he’d been the one to well, do the fucking, and given his sensitivity issues he’s not sure it’s the best idea.

He’s wrong. She takes her time, just as she always does, light touches over his thighs, his hips, his cock, then down to that sensitive spot between his balls and hole. It’s soft caresses at first. He squirms and twists his fingers in the sheets. It’s…weird. She firms up her touch, just a bit, but it’s enough to put pressure on what she plans to get to later.

"Good?” she asks.

“I’m…not sure,” he says. His mouth works as he tries to find the right words. “It’s pleasurable but it’s odd.”

“I can work with that.”

She’s endlessly patient. It shouldn’t take him by surprise anymore, but it does; a small miracle that she doesn’t throw up her hands and say he’s too much work. She massages the small area and uses her free hand to distract him with feather-light touches on his thighs and cock until he’s used to the feeling. By the time she slicks up a finger and slides it inside him, he’s too distracted to let worry make him tense up.

Just like before, Isabela takes her time. She eases her finger in and out and strokes a second against his hole but he barely even notices it when she’s doing that trick where she blows cool air over his hips and cock. The second finger slips in when he rocks down, and it’s an accident on both their parts but it works out because her fingers glance just what she was looking for. The spot she’d played with from outside feels completely different when touched directly.

For a moment, it’s like being with Hawke again. Pleasure, but too much, so much it _hurts_ , and then her fingers shift so they aren’t touching him and he goes limp on the bed. She laughs and gives a small thrust.

“Careful there,” she says. “I meant to be a bit more gentle the first time I did that.”

“It’s okay,” he says even as he squeezes his eyes shut as the _too much_ feeling continues to radiate through him. “Just give me a moment.”

“Of course. It’s not a race.”

He counts as he takes in breath after breath until finally the last of the tension leaves him. He squeezes tentatively down around her fingers, biting his lip against a moan at the feeling.

“There we go,” she says.

The next few minutes, she just eases her fingers in and out in a slow rhythm that she matches with fingers trailing up and down his cock, relaxing him again and letting him sink into the familiarity of it. At the back of his mind, a hazy thought drifts through. She’s good at making a person feel good. It’s a simple thought, but one he wouldn’t have had unless he’d been in her bed. She seems so callous sometimes, he’d thought it was carry over into bed. But no. She was attentive in a way Fenris had a feeling few actually were.

The next time her fingers brush over the small gland, it’s with a gentle touch. She takes her hand away from his cock and braces it on his hip to still his instinctive shifting as his body tries to figure out if it likes the sensation or not. For a moment, there’s shame again. He shouldn’t need her to hold him still, not when he’s had years of training to bend his body to another person’s will, but then he remembers that this isn’t just him letting her do something. It’s mutual. She’s doing this because she wants to bring him pleasure, and he’s doing it because he wants to feel that. To do so means he must let her steady him so she doesn’t hurt him. It’s a matter of trust.

He’s not sure how she can tell when nothing changes in his body, but he watches her smile when she realizes he’s somehow made the mental shift to give up control.

“That’s good, Fenris,” she says. “You tell me to stop and we will, but for now, let me lead.”

Her fingers press a little firmer and then ease up again. Fenris stretches his arms up over his head and lets out a deep breath as he sinks into the steady but soft rhythm Isabela develops with each motion. It’s different from before. Where originally she’d built on the sensations in an almost frantic way, now she builds it slow, layering it on so he drops into the pleasure with an almost lazy sleepiness.

He moans when his cock gives a sudden jerk, drooling come out onto his belly in a thick, slow stream. It’s like an orgasm, but instead of the sudden feeling of pleasure so intense it’s like a sharp pain, it’s relaxing, like the first stretch of the morning when he wakes. It radiates out from the spot Isabela’s fingers rub against like a slow cresting wave. Isabela doesn’t stop her fingers from moving. She draws out the feeling until there’s a puddle of come on his stomach and his cock has gone soft and then thrusts her fingers in and out without brushing the sensitive nub.

Fenris feels hedonistic, sprawled as he is when she removes her fingers and heads for the bathroom to clean up. There’s no memory of being able to indulge like this. Pleasure, mental and physical, had always been fleeting. The tantric orgasms were great too but they didn’t leave him feeling like this, dazed and hovering on the edge of plunging headlong into some feeling he couldn’t identify. Isabela laughs when she returns and looks him over. He just smiles and closes his eyes as she washes his stomach clean with a rag, enjoying the extra care.

"You’re no one’s wolf. You’re like a tiger bathing in the sun,” she says. She crawls into bed beside him, stretching out on her side.

"Tiger?” he muses. “Saw one of those in a Tevinter zoo once. Danarius wanted one for a pet but an advisor talked him out of it. One of his friend had owned one and got mauled to death in his sleep. The creature was put down.”

“Serves him right,” Isabela says. “That he was mauled I mean, not that the tiger was put down. Creatures like that aren’t meant to be tamed.”

“Like you,” he says, hoping he makes sense because his brain still feels fuzzy.

“And you,” she says, fingers toying with his hair.

He makes an odd growling noise and then turns, pushing her onto her back and pressing their lips together. He bites at her bottom lip to hear her gasp. Then he slides down the bed and gets his shoulders between her thighs.

“Ah, of course,” she says. “You’d rather do that then talk huh?”

“Wanna do this,” he says in another mumbled tone.

He licks over her slit and then pulls her folds apart so he can slide his tongue in. She sighs his name and holds him close by the back of his neck. He doesn’t know why he gets so much pleasure out of serving her this way, but whenever he makes her come, makes her legs clench down around him, makes her voice break as he brings her over the edge for the fifth time in an hour…he feels good. On some level, he thinks he should be ashamed. He’s a former slave, getting off on serving another’s wants and desires.

But he doesn’t. Isabela doesn’t mock him for it, only light teasing as she obliges. She never pushes or uses force. She’s eager to reciprocate even when it takes more work. That she’s willing to serve him just as much…perhaps that’s why he doesn’t feel ashamed of loving being here, mouth slick as he brings her to the edge. In the end, it doesn’t bare thinking about. He’s content.

That’s all he’s ever really wanted.

           


End file.
